Parade of Souls
by Aurora Borealia
Summary: After the debacle at The Sirens nightclub, both the mayor of Gotham and his Chief of Staff realize the true depth of their feelings for one another. But when Oswald is haunted by both childhood trauma and the ghosts of those he has killed, it makes him wonder if he is deserving of the love Edward Nygma can give him, or if he must put an end to their relationship before it starts.
1. Chapter One - Worthless to One

_**[A/N – Hello and welcome to the fic I never thought I would write! For a start, I don't even like superheroes, so the fact that I not only enjoy Gotham but feel strongly enough about it to write fanfic is incredible. Furthermore, this glorious pairing caught me completely off-guard. I was very invested in the bromance, but when "Anything For You" happened, I was converted. Here we are now, with this fanfic, my take on what should have happened after that tender Almost-Kiss.**_

 _ **I began this fic immediately after "Anything For You", but due to life getting in the way, I finished it a few days after "Follow The White Rabbit". Funny enough, some of the things that happen in that episode are very similar to things that happen in this fanfic. I promise that I had written those things beforehand – apparently there are just some things that are so Nygmobblepot, they have become ubiquitous, haha!**_

 _ **Note - the one thing I could not find during my research was Oswald's ethnicity, so I went with Hungarian. "Follow The White Rabbit" seems to confirm that it's Russian, but I chose not to change my version. So now I'm headcanoning Gertrude as Russian-Hungarian. If anyone out there has confirmation that the Kapelputs are something else, let me know.**_

 _ **I do not own Gotham or any of the characters involved in this fic. Rated T for language, mentions of violence, and other Gotham-y stuff. Spoilers up to and including episode 3x05. I hope you enjoy!]**_

 **Parade of Souls - A Gotham fanfic**

 _ **Chapter One - Worthless to One**_

Ever since Oswald's party had come to its bloody, bullet-riddled conclusion, rain had drenched Gotham City, splashing against the windows of the Van Dahl estate where Oswald insisted Edward stay until he was healed. Well into the night, Ed found himself watching the water pool on the sills and the huge yet graceful crows on the estate dodging raindrops in a futile attempt to stay dry. Yes, it was nights like these that reminded Ed he was not cured and that the framed certificate hanging next to Oswald's was a lie. Yes, it was nights like these that reminded him what it felt like to be insane...and yet, this particular type of insanity felt very different than it had before. Formerly, being insane had meant checking out of his own body, becoming a stranger in his own flesh, rising to meet the high that blood and violence demanded - before crashing back to earth as himself in a rush of sheer terror and panic. Eventually the lines blurred and his entire existence became one of revelry and terror battling each other for dominance at every turn. But now his insanity was entirely contained inside his own body. He felt euphoric and drained, exhausted and like he could run for miles without growing tired. His brain begged for sleep and yet couldn't stop running. Each heartbeat was so irregular that it seemed as if he could almost feel the blood being squeezed out of each valve, the sensation almost making him physically sick. He lay back in the guest bed and tried to force his breathing to slow down, failing each time.

Above the sound of the rain was the sound of Oswald singing in the room directly below him. He was the mayor of Gotham now, too important to be quietly crooning a Hungarian love song his mother had taught him long ago, and yet here they were. This man had killed so many people and yet could still trick himself into believing he was his mother's innocent baby for all time. Ed admired that level of self-deception and was, in a way, jealous of it, smiling as he heard the mayor's voice lilting gracefully through the hard syllables of Hungarian. It had to be a love song. _What other kind of song could it be?_ Ed thought to himself as he traced his fingers across the image of the ceiling above him.

 _"I am worthless to one but priceless to two..."_ he whispered, drawing the heart once more, _"I am love"_.

What was it that had inspired Ed to play his dangerous game with Butch? He had danced around destruction with Butch and with Oswald so many times during these past weeks that he had lost count of all the times he could have died, had stopped running the statistical probability on his death, as the numbers were simply coming back too high. Suffice to say, he should not still be alive. And yet here he was, reclining in bed, listening to the rain and a love song, nursing bruises on his neck that still caused his entire body to rattle when he breathed.

 _Why?_ It was not a riddle; it was just the question he had asked himself every day for weeks. Was it because he wanted power? After all, with Butch out of the way it was only an inevitability that Oswald would continue to give Ed more and more power. They were friends, after all. But he could have let Butch rig the election and the outcome probably would have been the same. And yet he had so desperately wanted to make sure Oswald was loved by the people. It was probably when they were standing on stage with hands clasped that Ed realized it was not simply because he had wanted to rise in stature that he had done it; it was because he genuinely wanted Oswald to be loved. After all, somewhere in a place of honor with his possessions lay the sweater Oswald had given him when he was in Arkham. He was just returning the favor.

But was he _really_ just returning the favor? If Oswald could deceive himself into believing he'd be his mother's sweet innocent child forever, surely Ed could deceive himself into thinking he was only trying to be nice and that was the extent of it. Even if it was untrue. Even if he was lying to cover up the fact that, while all of Gotham may love the man downstairs, Edward Nygma loved him more.

Even now it was surprising to think about. The only other person Ed had ever loved was dead now by his hand, lying in uneasy repose in a grave he dug himself. Was that love? It had certainly seemed like it at the time. Supposedly love conquered all, but it hadn't conquered that. After Kristen, Ed had promised himself he wouldn't bother with such a weak and useless thing as love. After all, if you knew who or what a man loved you knew his weakness, and if you knew his weakness, you knew how to destroy him. But here he was now, very much in love with the mayor of Gotham, so much so that he had willingly risked his life for Oswald. Even now, hours after the party, Ed could not disremember the feeling of Oswald's touch - on his face, on the side of his head, on the small of his back. Even now, hours after he had relinquished Oswald's bathrobe back to him in order to turn in for the night, he could not rid his nose of the scent of his friend's cologne. This love was so unlike his love for Kristen, which felt so long ago that it felt almost as if it had happened to another person and not himself. This love, like the new insanity he now lived in, was nothing like he had ever felt, in fact. If he was insane and this is how he was rewarded, so be it. But if he was sane and this was what happened after being cured, then all those months in Arkham had been worth it.

He thought once again of the riddle he had given Oswald before the election and it chimed in his head as steadily as the ticking of a clock: Why had he risked his life like this, day in and day out? Love. Why had he gone to such great lengths to make sure Oswald won the election on his own? Love. Why was it that he was willing to do anything for the man most of the city rather cruelly knew as Penguin? Love, love, love. Worthless to one, priceless to two, it was love, goddamnit. The answer to the riddle and to everything else would always be love.

But they were not children playing at this complicated thing - they were men, and dangerous ones at that. They would be bad together, oh so very bad. Together they would destroy lives and burn everything down. Gotham would be safe again, but only because it would have no choice in the matter, only because Oswald's word would be law and Ed would willingly sacrifice everything to see that word enforced. They would be dangerous together and danger would follow them accordingly - Ed gently rubbed the bruises on his neck as if to accent that. But they needed each other too, more than anything else in the world. For respect, for understanding, for mutual protection; to affirm that everything they had been though hadn't just been for nothing. And, if nothing else, perhaps to be redeemed, perhaps to have one good thing attached to their names that they would point to at the end of the world as the one good and lasting thing they had done.

It was to that thought that Ed finally gave one more rasping cough that shook him to his bones and fell asleep, replaying the night over and over again in his mind and wondering why in hell Oswald hadn't kissed him right there in front of the fire.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Oswald, don't listen to the other children..." Mother used to say to Oswald Cobblepot when he was small, long ago before any of this had ever started, "You are handsome, and clever, and some day you will be a great man."

In the back of his head, Oswald always knew that those words had been said by mothers everywhere to their downtrodden children since time began. He knew too that it was by and large bullshit, words that mothers of course would always believe, even if they weren't true, so he tried not to swallow the pablum and of course he failed. And yet, the saddest thing of all was that Gertrude actually believed these things about her son and therefore it became so much harder for Oswald to remember his childhood without feeling ashamed. His mother's love should have been enough. But it wasn't.

Although his mother's words _did_ become everything, eventually consuming his every thought and desire, there was a time when he desperately, desperately wanted the approval of the other children, more intensely than anything he had ever desired in his life. Well, maybe not all the children. Perhaps just Michael.

They were thirteen. Almost every other boy around him that year had seemingly discovered an interest in girls and sex as if both things had just been invented yesterday. Oswald, on the other hand, felt no sexual stirrings whatsoever - and any beginning barbs of romanticism he may have felt, he certainly did not feel towards girls. He knew so little about any of it at the time that he assumed his love for Michael was the extent of it, that that would be his sexuality, just to love Michael silently and from a distance forever.

For their entire lives, Michael had been the only child who ever tried to stop the bullying that Oswald endured on a daily basis. He had brown hair and dark eyes and when he smiled, which was rare, he was accidentally magnetic and too shy to know what to do with this power of his. He was smart on a threatening level and, once you got to know him, completely hilarious in unexpected ways. He used to be the smallest boy in their class - apart from Oswald - but over the summer had shot up like a weed until he towered over everyone else and now Oswald had to crane his neck back whenever he looked at him, which was often. But when exactly Oswald came to realize the extent of his adoration for Michael was always more difficult for him to pin down.

Perhaps it was the afternoon in the library when Michael looked up from a book and remarked,

"Hey, do you know what you remind me of?"

Oswald gulped uncertainly, knowing where this had the potential to go.

"A penguin?" he whispered haltingly.

"What? No." Michael said, brow furrowing in confusion, "A knight."

Now it was Oswald's turn to be flabbergasted, "A knight?"

"Yeah, a knight-errant, like in medieval history. There's an old book back home that has a picture of one of the cover. He looks just like you. Now you just have to find your _raison d'etre_ , that's a knight's reason for existence."

Perhaps it was the awkward school basketball game during which Oswald was content to hide passively in the bathroom until he could go free, when Michael held out a hand and said,

"Come on, you can sit next to me and if anyone tries to hurt you, I'll thump them. I'm tall now, I can do that."

And as Oswald laughed and allowed himself to be led up to the bleachers where for the rest of the evening his leg was plastered against Michael's leg like it was the most casual thing in the world, he thought he would choke on the fire in his gut that was threatening to consume him.

But whatever the reason was that Oswald loved him, it didn't matter. He loved him. He adored him. And Michael had to feel the same, surely. Anyone could see it. And anyone did see it. While Oswald couldn't pin down exactly when he had started to feel something for Michael, he knew the day it ended. Michael had invited him out for a walk to the tiny forest behind the school, and since Oswald would have followed him anywhere, he hastily agreed. As they walked, they talked of banal things until Oswald was certain he was going to explode. He had to tell this boy, this man, this beautiful creature how he felt before it killed him. Eventually they came to a clearing, and Oswald reached out to touch Michael's arm, halting him in mid-sentence.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but...there's something I really want to talk about." he said.

Michael's eyes grew slightly larger in surprise, "Okay, sure."

"You've been a really good friend to me over the years and I..." Oswald stopped, almost drowning in both eager anticipation and fear, "...and, well, I'm sure it's pretty obvious that I...that I...well that I like you. And I mean _like you_ like you. Alright, maybe more than like...maybe more like I can't stop thinking..."

He hadn't even realized he had been moving closer to his friend, contemplating how on earth he could reach Michael's mouth when the other boy was so much taller than he was. And he hadn't realized the ring that had formed around them, of other larger hulking students laughing and holding up their cameras.

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" one voice chirped, bringing him back to earth as a camera shutter loudly clicked closed, giving him a start as he turned to find the leader of the gang of bullies grinning back at him, "Smile pretty for me, Penguin. I always knew there was something off about you, thanks so much for proving it."

At once his head swiveled back towards Michael, who stood frozen in shock like a deer on the highway, his eyes darting from unfriendly face to unfriendly face. It was _his_ idea to take this walk and, despite the fact that they stood here together, only Oswald was the one being targeted for the humiliation and the shame.

"Michael..." he said, his voice somewhere in between shock and sadness and disgust.

Michael seemed to know what Oswald was thinking before Oswald thought it and he put up his hand defensively, proclaiming his innocence.

"Oswald, I had no idea. I had no idea they would be here."

But reason and thought were gone and the only thing left was the bitter sting of what had happened, whether Michael had been a part of it or not. But Oswald was certain he was. He had to be. Anyone could see it.

"YOU BETRAYED ME!" someone screamed, and Oswald was shocked to find it was his own voice, trembling and shrill as the gang around them laughed.

"No, no, please, Oswald, I didn't know about any of this, I swear to God. Please believe me, Oswald, please..." Michael pleaded, extending the hand that had previously been held up in innocence out to Oswald now as if hoping he would take it.

But Oswald had taken Michael's hand once before and it had led him here. Loving this boy in front of him in general had led him here. He had had enough problems with these monsters already thanks to his name and his stature and the goddamn hook in his nose, now they would ridicule him for this day in the forest and, even if he hadn't helped plan it, it was all Michael's fault.

"Goodbye, Michael." he choked back, biting his lip to keep from crying out as he turned to leave. Astonishingly, the crowd parted for him and let him go - perhaps the beatings would come later - laughing at him uproariously as he pulled himself from the scene, his steps faltering as he struggled against the rush of emotions. From behind him, he heard the sound of a fist connecting with skin, but whether Michael was throwing the punch or taking it, he did not know. But he didn't turn around.

Over the years the passions surrounding the event cooled for most of those involved. After high school, Michael moved to a city that was not Gotham and became a doctor, married a pretty girl, had two children and lived in a brownstone somewhere in the suburbs. He moved on from the incident. Oswald never did.

But he was the king of Gotham now. He was mayor now. He had more power than all of them combined could ever dream of - Michael, and the bullies, and anyone in his life who had made him feel small. Sure, they may have paradise, but they were servants, plebeians. They served in Heaven. Gotham may be Hell, but it was his Hell - he reigned, he was powerful. What was wrong with him that he wanted more?

After so many years of nothing - not being wanted by anyone or wanting them in return - here Oswald was again, this time with Edward Nygma. Even now he couldn't shake the fear he had felt looking over Ed's still body, or the relief and joy that had pumped through him when Ed finally drew breath. He had cared so deeply for this man for so long and yet was still able to pretend it was only friendship that motivated him. But cradling Ed as oxygen came back into his lungs and stroking his face over and over again in dizzy reassurance made him realize that was no longer a possibility. He should have kissed him then and there - the man who said he would do anything for him - and if not then, sitting in front of the fireplace just a few hours hence. But there was time. There was time now that they were both safe and now that Butch had been dispatched as the traitor he was. As Oswald slept that night, one thought permeated his dreams - he had wanted someone to share his life with and now he had the chance. He was mayor, he was respected, he was loved by the people. And soon he might be loved by the only other person on the planet who mattered to him. In the morning he would tell him, Oswald decided, ignoring the uneasy feeling that history was repeating itself.

After all, that was a long time ago - many years ago and far away. He was a different man now. He was powerful. What could possibly go wrong for him now?


	2. Chapter Two - Smash the Mirror

_**[A/N - In this chapter, Eddie finally gets to give some riddles! All the riddles in the fic, I made up - except for the mirror one, which I found online. So, if the riddles are atrocious, you have no one to blame but me! ;)]**_

 _ **Chapter Two - Smash the Mirror**_

Every dawn in Gotham was grey. This one was no exception, wet light filtering into the empty rooms and cold drab hallways of the vast Van Dahl mansion. Only two rooms had occupants to greet the light and to them, it was anything but cold and grey. No, today's dawn marked the beginning of their joint reign in Gotham, of the beginning of a _them_. Oswald rose and prepared for the day like a man in a dream. His already uncooperative legs seemed to be made of lead and the action of taking a single step forward seemed to take twenty additional thoughts to make the movement happen. He wanted this so desperately and yet felt paralyzed by fear and inaction. While last night had filled him with hope - knowing Ed was just upstairs sleeping peacefully, safe from those who had sought to harm him - today reminded him of just how close he was to losing yet another person he loved. His mind jolted painfully back through holding his mother as she died and his father as he died. He had almost held Ed as he died too. The thought chilled him to his very core, but he tried to push it out of his mind, reminding himself that he was well and truly the king of Gotham now and he had the power to make sure no one hurt the people he loved ever again. With that thought in mind, he forced himself to button on his cuff links, adjust his tie, and prepare for the day - and the task - before him.

Much to his surprise, when he came downstairs and entered the dining room, Ed was already there pouring coffee into two identical mugs.

"Morning," he said, as if this were a matter of routine.

"Ed, what are you doing? You should be resting."

"A good Chief of Staff never rests, Oswald," Ed chuckled, seeming to relish his new position.

"They do when they were almost strangled to death," Oswald said, trying to hide the tremble in his voice as he slightly parted Ed's shirt collar in order to examine the bruise.

"Nonsense." Ed said, standing very still as Oswald surveyed the memento of last night's party, "Gotham never stops and neither can we. You have a busy day ahead of you, _Mister Mayor_. I took the liberty of organizing a little event, I hope you don't mind."

"An event? What kind of event?"

"More like a rally, I'd say," Ed proudly remarked, "To discuss what happened last night in greater detail and move forward with punishing Butch for his crime."

"You mean _prosecuting_ him for his crime," Oswald replied, sharing a look with his Chief of Staff that suggested they we both in on the political joke.

"Yes, of course," Ed grinned, before leading Oswald over to a television, "Speaking of...take a look."

As he clicked the television on, a news report began featuring a reporter standing in front of The Sirens nightclub, which was still a crime scene. The beige-clad woman doing the newscast recounted the dramatic story of the Red Hood leader's raid on the place and the valiant, quick-thinking actions of the new mayor that stopped the disaster in its tracks. Ed proceeded to flip through channel after channel, each detailing the same pattern of story - The mayor saved the day, the mayor made good on his plan to keep Gotham safe, the mayor protected his Chief of Staff, the mayor uncovered corruption in his own regime and wasn't afraid to confront it head on. Overwhelmed by the flattery, Oswald sank into a nearby chair in shock. Ed came to his side, gripping the top of the chair and leaning over to continue watching the television in front of them. Even without looking up, Oswald could feel Ed's presence hovering above him.

"You're their hero," Ed whispered, looking down, "And they can't wait for you to come out and greet them."

A small laugh escaped the mayor's lips, a laugh of shock and contentment as he stared blankly ahead at the newscast. But after a moment he came back down to earth, remembering the real reason he had done what he did last night, and the one person he hoped saw him as a hero more than any of the others.

"Hey, um, Ed? There's actually something I want to talk to you about..." he said, turning to face Ed as he moved to walk away.

The other man stopped dead in his tracks and looked back to face him, "Hm, what a coincidence. As a matter of fact, there's something I would like to say to you as well."

"Oh. Then by all means, go ahead."

"No, no, you're the mayor and the star of the hour. I insist."

"Alright..." Oswald said, managing a weak smile. He hadn't anticipated this being as hard as it was shaping up to be, "Well...Ed. I um...well, about last night, I..."

Just as he was plucking up the nerve to launch into what he wanted to say, an attention-grabbing noise blared from the television, signaling a developing news story. Both men jumped slightly, shifting awkwardly back and forth to disguise it as their gazes swiveled in unison to see what was unfolding.

"Breaking news now from the GCPD," the beige reporter was saying, "Our sources report that Butch Gilzean, leader of the Red Hood gang responsible for the two attacks on Gotham city mayor Oswald Cobblepot, was broken out of his police escort late last night. Officials say that the GCPD transport van was attacked by an unknown assailant who fled the scene with Gilzean..."

At the reporter's words, Oswald felt ever muscle tense up in primal fear, his mouth opening in complete shock, every vein tensing and every breath halting before it could be drawn.

"No..." he whispered and for several seconds it was all he could manage, "NO!"

"Oswald..." Ed tried to brooch gently, but even he looked pale and unnerved by the news that their new enemy was prowling the streets once more, probably out for blood.

"No, Ed, this can't happen! This is an outrage. This is a disaster! He has to be caught, Ed, he _has_ to be!" he struck his fist against a nearby table, causing the trinkets on it to shake violently.

"Alright, alright, it will be okay..." Ed said, although his voice betrayed a tiny sliver of doubt, "First things first, I'm going to make some calls and cancel your event today and-"

"No, don't."

"What?"

"Don't cancel the event, Ed. The event is still on."

"Oswald, that's tantamount to suicide! Butch will want your head."

"And that's exactly why I need to do it," Oswald cut in, "I need to show the people their new mayor won't be silenced by a _brute_. I vowed to make Gotham safe again and that's exactly what I'm going to do, starting by confronting him!"

"I can't let you do this, Oswald. I can't let you risk your life to uphold a campaign slogan."

"I thought you said you'd do anything for me, Edward Nygma." Oswald replied, levelling him with a glance that did not communicate anger, just appraisal.

The memory of last night's promise seemed to remind Ed of his obligation. He looked almost a little wistful at the thought of it.

"And I would," he whispered at last, "Anything except let you be killed. You can't ask me to do that."

"And you won't have to," Oswald responded, limping forward to place his hands reassuringly on Ed's shoulders. It was moments like this when he realized just how tall Ed was, "I'll be alright, I promise you that."

Ed nodded feebly, and patted Oswald's hand as if to show he was willing to trust his new boss had a plan - even if he perhaps didn't agree with it. They stood there in that position for a few seconds longer before both men seemed to remember themselves and their obligations.

"Right then," Oswald cleared his throat, the two men untangling themselves from each other's grasp, "You make sure everything is planned for the event and I am going to go write a speech."

"Right. Good. Just remember, speak from the heart and don't put too much thought into it. The people of Gotham like you best when you speak from the heart."

"Thank you, Ed. Oh and Ed, speaking of which, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

Ed paused for a moment, opening his mouth to speak and then deciding against it at the last minute.

"No, never mind, it can wait," he said quickly, "What about you? What did _you_ want to talk to _me_ about?"

"Oh, same - it can wait." Oswald lied, managing a weak smile as Ed bustled off.

As soon as Ed left the room, Oswald pushed his balled-up fist against his forehead in self admonition. He had been so close to telling Ed the truth - it had been right there on the tip of his tongue - and yet now, with Butch on the run, in one instant everything had changed. Just last night he had gloried in the fact that they had all the time in the world to make "them" work as a concept. And now their window of time was gone. Now his ability to protect Ed was gone. Their relationship could only work if Oswald could keep Ed safe, and now he most certainly could not make that promise. Not for the first time, he thought of his parents and how he had been unable to protect them; to make matters worse, his mother's death had gone on unavenged and now it was the same people who had killed her making Oswald's life a living hell once more. Butch would have to be dispatched immediately, Tabitha too, for she was almost certainly the "unknown assailant". And if Barbara Kean knew what was good for her, she would accept Tabitha's death or she would have to go as well. After all, if he had taken over Fish Mooney's club, he could take over The Sirens if necessary. Maybe he could give it to Ed to run, Ed was good with numbers. And if anyone had a problem with that, well...

The thought suddenly made him weary - the endless line of people he would have to have killed. It seemed like there would _always_ be someone standing in his way, and so another name would have to be added to his list, the mental tally he kept of people he had ordered to be killed or had killed himself. The list was beginning to grow so long he occasionally found himself forgetting people, wracking his brain to try and fill in the gaps between one kill and another, where another victim's name or face should have been and yet just was not coming to him. If keeping Edward Nygma safe meant killing everyone in Gotham, he would gladly do it. But what if all this killing was only for his own selfish happiness - what if all this killing was just so he could delight in being with Ed and didn't actually keep him safe? What if it actually put him into greater danger? Oswald thought of last night's party, how Ed had stepped in between him and Butch, willingly taking the brunt of Butch's unbelievable anger. Ed would do that again, Oswald knew, and while it warmed him to the core to acknowledge that fact, it also paralyzed him with fear. He couldn't let Ed do that. Not for him.

Death followed him, after all. Everyone he loved was taken away from him violently and his reactions had been just as swift and violent. He had reduced Theo Galavan to a smoking hole in the ground for the sake of his mother; he had hacked apart the Van Dahls to avenge his father. There would always be an endless parade of victims to haunt him - not just those he had slain, but those he had slain for - and the thought of it made him tremble for the first time since this entire journey had begun.

Oswald abruptly pushed the thought out of his head and fumbled quickly to begin a speech. He had to keep himself together, he had to be vigilant now that Butch was free. He would keep Gotham safe. He would keep Ed safe. But now he questioned if he would be able to love Ed at the same time.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ed had been ready to tell Oswald how he felt. So very ready. He had come to terms with it last night lying breathless on a stage and cemented it lying breathless in the mansion, trying to force his pulse to stop racing. He was ready for this - and he had a feeling Oswald was ready for it too. And yet the words had gone unspoken, left to follow him tensely for the rest of the day. He loosened his tie absent-mindedly as he made some last-minute phone calls to beef up security for the event and confirm guests, as if it were the tightness of the garment that was constricting him and not his own pent-up emotions. Nothing had changed and yet...everything had changed. In one news report his certainties about his future with Oswald had been destroyed, shattered in one fell swoop.

He ended his final phone call and sighed, thinking of Oswald's stubborn insistence to go ahead with the event despite the risk. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to Oswald during the event that he had planned - even more so if something happened without him getting the chance to confess his feelings. And yet, even with this knowledge, something kept his feet rooted in the hallway where he stood, still gripping the phone receiver until his knuckles turned white.

And then suddenly an eerily familiar voice cut through the silence.

"What's wrong, Eddie boy? Cat got your tongue?"

It took him a second to realize that the voice sounded familiar because it was his own voice. A spasm of horror gripped him as he spun around and came face-to-face with the other him, that darker version of himself that sometimes took over, that terrifying specter he thought had merged with him a long time ago.

"You! Why are you here? I thought you _were_ me." Ed whispered, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

"Oh, I was." His dark twin tutted in response, eyes full of malice but tone dripping with jocularity, "We were one and the same for so long, you and me _together_ , reunited and it felt _so good_!"

And then at once the levity dropped from his voice.

"And now we're _here_." he said, surveying the hallway, running his spectral fingers over wood surfaces and pursing his lips in disapproval, "Here in your boyfriend's mansion. He's driven a wedge between us, Edward. I thought you only loved _me_!" His twin wailed in fake distress before chuckling darkly.

"I don't understand..." Ed responded, looking around to make sure no one could see him talking to the empty space, "I thought you were the insane version of me. I'm still insane. So what are you doing walking around on the outside again?"

"Oh, Edward, Edward, Edward. You really don't know me at all, do you?" the other Ed laughed, "You _are_ insane, there's no denying that. And Oswald's insane. And you'll probably both always be insane - one happy little murderously crazy married couple. The only thing keeping you two from being the head of the crazy people's PTA is a little unsuspecting tyke you can both fill with your poison. No, Edward, ya doll, I'm not the insane version of you..."

"What are you then?" Ed barked, forcing his voice not to go much louder, lest Oswald hear and come to check on him.

"I'm the version of you that actually takes ownership of his actions." the twin sneered.

"What are you talking about?" Ed's voice trembled once more, the words that came next more like an intonation of a comforting prayer than words he recognized, "You're the insane version of me. You were born because I became a killer and couldn't handle it. You're the one who took over after Miss Kringle died, you're the one who made me do the things I did."

"Oh, please!" the other him bellowed, "Oh, my sweet summer child, just _listen_ to yourself. Do you hear how _absurd_ you sound?"

Ed flinched as the twin's voice echoed through the empty halls of the mansion. It took him a second to remember that no one could hear this other version of him except himself.

"I didn't make you do _anything_ ," the other Ed continued, "Your actions were your own, brother. All of it...that was all you. I just had the balls to own it. Why do you think you checked out after you murdered Kristen? Because you were frightened? Because you were _sad_?" he chuckled again, "Wrong. You checked out because you didn't have the stones to own up to the fact that you had just murdered your girlfriend in cold blood. You never had the guts to admit any of it - how badly you wanted her, how badly you needed her to see you were the mastermind behind Dougherty's death. It was so much easier to hide behind me, wasn't it? And boy, I will tell you I was so proud of you when you when we finally merged. Taking control of your own actions it's just so... _mmm_...so sexy."

"So then why are you here now? Actions, owned. We shouldn't be having this conversation." Ed snapped.

This time, his twin did not laugh, but rather rounded on him like an animal stalking its pray, " _Why am I here_? Well because I have a bone to pick with you, Edward Nygma - Mister A-man-with-nothing-he-loves-is-a-free-man. And yet here you are, pathetically pinning over a tiny little man with tiny little umbrellas embroidered onto his shirt cuffs. Talk about hypocrisy."

"You're supposedly the side of me that owns up to my decisions, not the side that critiques my life choices." Ed glowered, his tongue working furiously in his cheek, "Besides, if you _own it_ so much, why are you here bitching to me? I love Oswald, I freely admit that."

"Oh, but do you freely admit it, Eddie my boy? I don't think so. You were all ready to go in there and throw yourself at your new beau's feet and shout your love from the rooftops and yet..." the twin comically shrugged, "I don't hear any shouting. What happened? Oh, yeah, that's right. Butch is free and on the run, so now suddenly little Eddie isn't as brave and smart as he thought he was and now he's too afwaid to tell wittle Ozzie how he feels."

With this, he struck his phantom fist into his palm in frustration, "Oh, I can't believe you and I are two halves of the same coin! What did I ever do to get saddled with a sucker like you? We had it so together, man, _you_ had it so together! You tried love and it failed, alright, fine - even I thought it was a good idea at the time. Although let's be honest, it wasn't just love that motivated me. But after it failed, you set off on such a good path. Kristen showed you who you really were - cold-blooded, a solo flyer. Everything that we went through...such pains to learn our lesson...and you're _ruining it_! And for what? For Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot? I mean, come on, who names their kid _Chesterfield_?"

"Yes! Yes, for Oswald!" Ed whispered furiously, "Because he makes me feel..."

"What?" the twin cut him off, voice rising in astonished indignation, "He makes you feel good? Makes you feel loved? Makes you feel _special_? The last person who made you feel special got dismembered for her troubles."

The twin cackled evilly, delighting in the grimace of pain and unbridled anger that flickered across Ed's face. He watched, paralyzed, as his double sauntered through the hall, picking up objects as he went and looking them over. At last, when Ed blinked, the twin was no longer standing before him, but was luxuriously stretching in the mirror.

"That's better," he sighed, adjusting his tie before levelling Ed with a glare, "Just remember, Eddie boy, there are things in this world more important than feeling special."

The twin cackled again from his place on the wall and reclined, enjoying the pained look that crossed Ed's face. But this time, unlike the others, something in Ed refused to be kowtowed.

"No." he said simply.

"Wait, maybe I heard that wrong. What do you mean 'No'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, you slick son-of-a-bitch," Ed replied, a grin slowly creeping back to his face, "No, sometimes being made to feel special _is_ the greater good. Sometimes there _aren't_ more important things. Oswald makes me feel special. I won't apologize for it and I won't feel sorry about it. He makes me feel... _everything_. And if you have a problem with it, there's the door."

"Oh, Edward..." the twin tutted as if he were scolding a child, " _The sun feels me, so does the moon. But the stars do not. I afflict the weak and the strong, the rich and the poor. You can feel me in an empty room or in the most crowded of places. Two destroys me, zero doesn't know me. The only number that can feel me is one. I am all-powerful, indivisible. What am I_?"

"Loneliness," Ed immediately answered, "What of it?"

"Loneliness is bliss, brother. Being alone is the only way you're free. Be your own man, Edward."

Ed scoffed slightly, a grin lighting his face, "Now here's one for you. Riddle me this - _If you drop me, I'm sure to crack. Give me a smile, and I'll always smile back. I make two people out of one. What am I?_ ".

"A mirror," his twin answered automatically, before the light of recognition dawned on his face, "You wouldn't dare..."

"Oh ho ho, yes I would."

"Love has made you weak, Edward. Come with me, I can make you strong. I _have_ made you strong. You wouldn't dare!"

"Yes I would. Because _I'm_ the one in control, not you. I OWN YOU!" Ed bellowed and, in one swift movement, punched the mirror in front of him with all the force he could manage, delighting in the shocked look on the twin's face as he disappeared in a cascade of pulverized glass.

The deafening noise brought Ed back to earth with a jolt. He could see his hand was cut quite extraordinarily, blood running down his arm and quickly soaking through his shirt sleeve, but he hardly felt it. Instead he spun around in disbelief, searching for the twin, who always seemed to show back up even when he tried to dismiss him. But this time, there was no evil grimace, no dark eyes watching him from somewhere else in the room, no voice mocking him. He didn't need another version of himself to own his decisions. He owned them all now, the good and the bad.

"He's gone..." Ed whispered, his shock soon turning into euphoria, "I got rid of him. He's gone!"

He held his undamaged hand to his cheek in disbelief, laughing in quiet merriment until the pain in his dominant hand finally caught up with him and he staggered a step back, grasping the bloodied appendage in an attempt to stem the tide.

Within seconds, he heard the sound of Oswald's footfalls, the other man limping as quickly as he could to the hall where Ed stood.

"What happened?" he cried.

"I broke a mirror," Ed replied dumbly, shifting under the intensity of Oswald's gaze.

"Um, yes, I can see that." Oswald replied, his tone more than a tad confused until his eyes caught sight of Ed's bloodied hand, "Ed! Your hand!"

"Oh, uh, it's nothing..."

"It is most certainly not nothing. Come here."

Ed obediently stepped forward, presenting his cut hand to Oswald in silence. Oswald took it and gently examined the wound.

"You really did a number on this..." he mused to himself, looking upward with a glance that suggested he wanted to ask for more information but thought better of it, "Let me get something to patch this up, stay right here."

He disappeared in the direction of the kitchen for a moment and returned with a roll of bandages in his hand. Ed remained in the same position the entire time, allowing Oswald to fret and tut over the wound as he cleaned and bandaged it with care. Ed watched him without a word until at last he could no longer endure the silence.

" _When two of me touch, they can smile or frown_ " he blurted out, _"When I am parted from my mate, all things can pass through us. I can be touched, I can be bit, I can touch another person; but I cannot ever leave you. What am I?"_

Oswald paused in his task and looked up in confusion as he usually did whenever Ed quoted a riddle. After a moment, Ed relented.

"It's lips. The answer is lips."

"What?"

"I've been thinking a lot about lips lately," Ed muttered, forcing himself to meet Oswald's eyes and not look lower, "Lips and mouths and...the things they can do."

"Um, sure...Okay..." was Oswald's only reply as he levelled Ed with another confused glance. After a moment, however, he seemed to shake his bewilderment off and turned back to his task, knotting the bandages off with a note of finality, "There. That's the best that I can do, but I really think you should go to the hospital." He said, his mouth forming into a hard frown as he rolled Ed's bloodied cuff back down.

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm alright. Really." Ed replied quickly, trying his best to sound convincing.

"Are you sure? Between this and your neck, I really think you ought to..."

"I appreciate your concern Oswald, really I do. But I'll be fine. Promise."

That seemed enough for Oswald, who shrugged slightly and stepped back, "Alright, but only if you're sure."

"I am sure, I am. Thank you." Ed said, smiling slightly as he spoke, "And now, I had really better change my suit if I'm to be ready for your event."

"Oh, you're not going with me." Oswald said, his face becoming a mask of confusion once more.

"What? Why?" Ed did his best to not look hurt.

"Ed, just look at yourself! You've been through hell these past twenty-four hours. You need to be resting, not running all over town! I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything happened to-" he cut off abruptly and took a marked step back before regaining his composure, "Well, let's just say I already have the kettle boiling for you and there's even another roll of bandages so you can change the dressings on your hand. And I'll be back by the end of the evening."

"Again, I appreciate your concern," Ed said, appraising his friend for a moment before beginning to bustle off to get ready, "But like I said before, I cannot afford to rest, especially not now. And don't worry, I will be entirely cleaned up and presentable by then. I can wear a glove to cover the bandages - and as for the neck bruises, I think it will be good for the public to see them. Show them the extent of what your regime is willing to go through to clean up the streets."

After a moment, Oswald shrugged, resigning himself to the will of his Chief of Staff, "Alright, but promise me you'll take it easy!"

"Yes, fine! But there are more pressing things to deal with, aren't there?" Ed called back as he hurried up the stairs towards the guest room where he was staying, the jaunt returned to his step.

As he moved around the room, changing his bloodied clothing and preparing for the work ahead, he couldn't help but smile at himself in the mirror. Mirrors used to horrify him with the thought that his other self might appear to mock or cajole him, but not anymore. This time he saw only himself. He adjusted his glasses and smiled as he looked into mirror above the dresser, feeling that he was almost at the end of his goal.

 _ **[A/N – I would just like to point out that Ed banishing his "twin" does not mean I am condoning his actions. I very strongly dislike the way the Kristen Kringle storyline played out on the show, but this is neither the time nor the place for that discussion. By having Ed's "twin" be the part that owns his actions, I hope I was adding a little context to Ed controlling his life – a big problem when the "twin" shows up – rather than excusing the problematic elements. Whew, anyway, that was very intense. Back to the Nygmobblepot! What angst awaits our boys in chapter three, the final chapter?]**_


	3. Chapter Three - The Same Mistake

_**[A/N - Hello again! This is the third and final chapter of this fic, but I have a feeling that Nygmobblepot is going to strong-arm me into writing more fic for them. I just can't help myself. And, if you need someone to scream with about all of your Nygmobblepot feels, find me on tumblr! My username is the same as it is here. Love to you all! And now, without further ado, let's see what happens to our boys in this chapter. Thanks for reading!]**_

 _ **Chapter Three - The Same Mistake**_

The event had originally been planned as an outdoor affair, but with Butch on the lamb Ed had made the necessary adjustments to get it moved inside. It was now located inside the glistening ballroom of Gotham's oldest hotel. For something that had been put together in approximately twelve hours, it was a grand affair to be sure, filled with socialites milling about and drinks being dispensed and, most importantly, flanked all around with legions of hulking figures serving as bodyguards. As both Oswald and Ed entered the space, the new mayor's eyes went wide as he looked around him. Over and over again his eyes came to the armed security that was staged throughout the facility.

"They're all people who have a beef against Butch as well," Ed explained with a smile, "I figured the best people to protect you from Butch are people whose vendetta against him is just as great as ours."

"That's very clever, Ed..." Oswald replied, still open-mouthed with shock as he moved through the room.

His shock only increased as people stopped him, thanking him for what he had done to help the city already and asking to shake his hand in respect. As he moved through the crowd, he kept looking back to see if Ed was behind him; sure enough, Ed was there each time, beaming back at him in what seemed to be pride at how much the people loved his boss.

"But this isn't fair..." Oswald said at last as they arrived in front of the podium where he would deliver his speech, "This isn't fair at all. You took the brunt of it, I only did what I did to save you. You should be recognized for your contributions too, Ed."

Ed merely chuckled, "Don't worry about it. It's you they want to see, not me. This is your moment."

"I can't accept that. I'm going to make sure you get some recognition, I promise."

"Oswald, you should know the first rule of politics by now - don't make promises you can't keep," Ed jokingly admonished, "Now get out there and give the people what they want."

As Ed ushered him up to the stage amid thunderous applause, Oswald made sure he could see Ed in the midst of the deep crowd. Sure enough, there he was, standing well above the sea of heads, watching Oswald with a confident smile as if to reassure him that all would go smoothly. Looking at Ed standing there made it so much harder for Oswald to tell what was in store for them when logically he knew that his love for this man might endanger them both and yet emotionally he knew it made him so much stronger. Taking a deep breath, he chose to draw from that strength as he plowed on.

"People of Gotham..." he began as a hush fell over the crowd, "Before I begin our conversation about _this_ evening and all the evenings going forward, I would like to look back at the very public events that happened last night at The Sirens nightclub. Since that incident, I have heard many people herald my actions as heroic. But I want to take this opportunity to point out the actions of someone far more heroic than myself, the man who stepped in front of me to prevent me from coming to harm during that attack. And that would be my Chief of Staff, Edward Nygma, without whom I would be totally and completely lost," he gestured out to Ed, who adjusted his glasses with a smile somewhere in between self-conscious and deeply moved, "You can see he still bears the wound from that attack and yet he is here tonight by my side. I only hope all of you have someone in your life that's even half as loyal as Mister Nygma. So, if you'll please raise your glasses in toast to him."

He took a glass from a nearby waiter and lead the toast himself, raising the glass high in Ed's direction. Ed merely smiled and held out his hands in gratitude, both to the assembled throng and to Oswald. When the toast was finished, he continued on,

"As I'm sure all of you know by now, Butch Gilzean, leader of the Red Hood Gang, has escaped police custody. Now, you may notice the extra security here tonight," he gestured around them, "I am dedicated to your safety and the safety of your families. And I want you to know that, no matter where you go in Gotham, I want to be able to personally guarantee that you will be safe. Because a crime committed against one of us is a crime committed against all of us. And during my time as mayor, a crime against any one of us will not be tolerated. Together we will make Gotham safe again, from this night moving forward. And we will not be afraid to make the hard choices in order to see that everyone feels at home in their own city. Thank you."

As soon as the last syllable of his speech had been delivered, the crowd around Oswald erupted into cheers. But he only cared to be judged by one person in the room. His gaze swiveled to Ed once more, who nodded his approval with a smile, allowing Oswald to feel that it had all, therefore, been worth it. Only then did he allow himself to look around the rest of the assembled throng, waving and taking in faces and basking in the glow. And then one face stopped him in his tracks. Was that...was that Grace Van Dahl staring back at him?

No, of course not - she was extremely dead. Oswald had made sure of that. There was no possible way she could be here, and yet she was there...and then she wasn't. Next time he blinked, she was gone, evaporating like smoke as quickly as she had come. Oswald forced himself not to panic even as fear seized him - after all, there were still dozens of pairs of eyes watching him - so he forced another smile and found Ed in the crowd once more. Ed appeared to be the only one who could see the change, his eyes narrowing in confusion and surprise. As he dismounted the stage, he made his way through the crowd of well-wishers and supporters, making his way to where Ed stood.

"What's the matter?" Ed asked him in a hushed tone immediately.

"Nothing...nothing, old friend. Everything is fine." Oswald lied in response, aware that the other man would easily be able to see through his deception.

But Ed said nothing, merely eyed Oswald suspiciously as the event went on. Oswald did his best to stand patiently for photos and listen with interest and understanding to the concerns of the assembled citizens. But at the periphery of his vision continued to swim an assortment of faces he had dispatched long ago. They were hallucinations, of course - tricks of his mind thanks to stress or lack of sleep - and yet they were real enough to cause him so deep and complete a terror that he thought he would drown inside of it. He could always tell they were one of his victims - even if he had otherwise forgotten their faces or names (if he even knew their names in the first place) - because they stood resolutely in the crowd, staring him down with cold dead eyes, almost dully pearlescent in their glaring. That man there was a victim, but which one? The first one. The fisherman he had murdered after surviving his hellish, freezing night in the river. Why had he murdered that man? He easily could have asked for help and probably would have gotten it...and yet in his exhaustion, his hunger, his desperation, he had grabbed a knife and slashed.

And what about the two boys who had picked him up in their car? They stood side by side, gazing back at him now. Their crime was calling him a penguin, something he openly called himself now. Why had they died other than the fact that he wanted them to? And there was Janice Caulfield. And there were Sasha and Charles Van Dahl. And the list went on and on, glinting eyes, dark sneers, the same terror seizing through him at seeing each of them.

He was a fool to think he could have it all, let alone that he _deserved_ it all. All the days of his life he tried to honor his mother, as if he was still that little boy getting rocked to sleep at night with Gertrude's insistence that he was a handsome, clever, special boy. But he was not that little boy anymore. He was a killer. He was insane. These people may be fooled, but he was unable to fool himself anymore that he would be anything more than a criminal wearing a political mask. Until the day he died he would be haunted by the souls of those he had slaughtered and they would never give him rest, especially not now that he was mayor, an office he had only risen to because he had so ruthlessly spilled blood in his wake.

He had been selfish. At first, feeling the first rush of love for Edward Nygma had erased his doubts, his fears, made him feel unstoppable and equipped to deal with everything; but it had also brought up the agony of remembering Michael. And now it brought back the memories of all those he had damned. But why?

He realized with a jolt it was because loving Ed was also selfish. He wanted to be with Ed so badly that it made him dizzy to think about for too long - and yet how could he do that when the mayor dating his Chief of Staff would bring Ed under intense scrutiny at best and could very well kill him at worst? There were already unfriendly newspapers scattered throughout the city who still referred to Oswald as "a criminal and former Arkham patient" in the same breath as "mayor" who would have a field day over Ed if they were given a reason to dig into his past - and if newspapers had the power to make Ed's life a living hell thanks to Oswald loving him, he couldn't even imagine what his enemies could do to Ed in an effort to control the new mayor's actions.

 _Know thy self, Oswald,_ he admonished himself silently, _Danger surrounds you everywhere you go...and all you manage to do is get the ones you love killed._

That's why these specters were following him this evening of all evenings - they were here to remind him how pairbonded he was to death and danger...and that perhaps those relationships would be the only lasting ones in his life.

He forced himself to be steady as he detangled himself from a crowd and sought out Ed, who was standing in the middle of the room, his gaze oscillating back and forth on a constant prowl for trouble.

"Ed?" Oswald asked shakily, "Do you think we've been here long enough? I'd like to go if we can."

"Yes, of course we can go, but what's wrong?" A note of panic crept into Ed's voice, "You haven't seen something, have you?"

"No, no...at least, not in the way you're thinking," he shuffled awkwardly, "The security is doing a great job and I want everyone to be able to stay for as long as they want, but I would like to go."

Ed nodded and, using his height to his advantage, steered Oswald out of the room as inconspicuously as possible, flanked by several guards as they went. As they walked, Oswald could feel himself clenching up in unspeakable anxiety, his heartbeat throbbing in his head with such great pain that he thought it would make him vomit. Even worse than the endless line of ghosts was the fact that tonight confirmed the thing he had begun to realize with great dread but hadn't wanted to acknowledge - that being mayor meant he and Ed could not be together after all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ed knew something had been bothering Oswald since the moment he finished his speech; he could pinpoint the exact moment his friend had faltered, frightened either by some real threat or some hidden personal demon. He spent the entire car ride home in tense, uneasy silence, wanting desperately to comfort Oswald - something that was impossible, since the other man refused to say exactly what it was that was bothering him. When at last they arrived at the mansion and were alone in the privacy of the vast house, Ed broke the silence.

"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong..." he said, voice rising slightly in bewildered frustration.

"Nothing's wrong. I think tonight went fine," Oswald muttered in reply as he put away his coat almost mechanically. His voice sounded forced, differential, as if he was only speaking now because he had to.

"Tonight may have been fine, but you're not," Ed responded, following behind Oswald as he left the foyer and entered into the house's massive living room, "What aren't you telling me, Oswald?"

At last Oswald spun around, drawing in closer to Ed.

"What do you want me to say, Ed?" he snapped, "That I'm the city's hero? That I'm the only one who could possibly get rid of the monsters? That everyone loves me? Because it's all bullshit!"

"I don't understand..." Ed stammered in reply, hearing with surprise that his voice betrayed both confusion and perhaps a little bit of pain.

Oswald clicked his tongue in disbelief and shook his head, as if he too was trying to conceal the pain he felt.

"Oh, Ed, don't you see? I'm a fraud!" he cried, "I can't keep Gotham safe! I can't even protect the only person in the city who matters to me."

At once, a lump formed in Ed's throat, threatening to choke him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked meekly, trying for some inexplicable reason to play coy. Oswald levelled him with a glare that suggested the time for such an act was over.

"If I can't protect you...what's the point?" Oswald whispered at last.

"Oswald, don't worry about me. I'm safe. I'll be fine. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," was all the mayor could muster in response, tears choking out his voice.

"But don't you see what we accomplished tonight? We have _allies_. We have people who will protect us and all we need to give them in return is a little bit of power...and that's the one thing you have in abundance now. They'll do anything for us."

"You don't understand..." Oswald replied, his voice thick with pain, "There is no _us_ , Ed. There can never be an _us_. It's too dangerous...and I should never have involved you in the first place."

"But I am involved now, Oswald, and-"

"And I'm putting a stop to it," Oswald cut in, "You can't be a part of this anymore, Ed. You have to go."

"What?" Ed practically shrieked, staring at his friend in disbelief, "How can you say that? After everything we've done for each other-"

"I know." Oswald interrupted again, holding up his hand as if Ed going any further would break him, "I know. You've done more for me than anyone in a long time. And I'll always be grateful for that. But I have to let you go, Edward Nygma...I can't be selfish anymore."

Ed levelled the man in front of him with a hard stare, his eyes blurring with tears he wished desperately would not come.

"I think you're happier being around me, Oswald. And I don't think it's selfish to want to be happy. You deserve it."

"Do I though?" Oswald barked, pacing around the room in agitation, his eyes never once leaving Ed's, "I'm a killer, Ed. I'm a _mass murderer_. I've killed over a dozen people. I've killed so many people that sometimes I forget the exact number. Some of their faces have actually started to blur together. Sometimes I forget why I even killed them in the first place. _I've killed so many people_...tell me how someone like me is ever deserving of happiness. I'm a _monster_."

The tears that had been present in Oswald's voice rolled down his cheeks now as he continued.

"And I realized something today, Ed. I realized I would kill everyone in Gotham if it meant keeping you safe. I'd even kill myself if that's what it took. And I'd be _glad_ to. But last night also proved you'd do the same thing for me. And I don't deserve such a sacrifice. I shouldn't be allowed to put you in harm's way just so I can be happy. Which is why I have to let you go."

It was hard for Ed to remember that just a few hours hence he had felt so euphoric, so full of joy that he was free of his boorish twin and could now tell Oswald what he felt. This feeling was like a knife to the chest, like his life force was being drained from his body, leaving only an empty hollow shell. How could he leave this man now, after everything they had been through? After Ed had finally come to terms with how he truly felt - and come to terms with the fact that it seemed Oswald felt the same way. No, he couldn't leave him, and he couldn't wait any longer to tell his friend the true extent of his feelings.

"But _I love you_..." he whispered, "And it costs me nothing to say it, Oswald."

"Doesn't it, though, Ed?" Oswald wept, "Because it costs me everything. And I think if you really looked, you'd realize it costs you too."

"Don't you think you should let me determine that for myself?" Ed begged.

"No, no I can't. Because I know you'll want to stay. And I know you'll tell me you can handle yourself and be safe, but you can't make that promise, Ed. Because you don't know if you'll be safe, not really. And I _need_ you to be safe."

They both paused for a moment, Oswald turning his face away in an effort to keep some dignity, Ed gripping the edges of a nearby chair. He felt feverish with emotion, so overwhelmed and choked by sorrow that he thought he would stop breathing right there on the spot. But he rallied himself and plowed on, knowing it was his turn to be heard.

"You think you're the only monster? They aren't going to call my name in Heaven, Oswald," he said, breaking the silence, watching as Oswald lifted his head slowly towards the direction of his voice, "I know that. And I know my hell is going to be me being parted from you for all eternity. Don't make that be what I experience on Earth, too."

"But at least you'll be alive."

"Yes, but what sort of life will that be - both of us with broken hearts?"

"I'd rather your heart be broken than your neck, Ed." Oswald rasped, touching a hand very gently to the purple bruises that still lived on Ed's throat.

"No, no, I refuse to believe that," he replied, catching hold of Oswald's wrist and holding it firmly as if to keep this man here in front of him for all time, "I refuse to believe that that's how you want to live. There is something real between us, Oswald. Please..."

"I thought you said love was a weakness for men like us. I thought you said we were better off unencumbered."

"I did..." Ed said haltingly, "And I was wrong. I used to think that love was like a poison that set in and paralyzed all the instincts a person needed to survive. And after all that I had gone through I thought the only way to be free from pain and fear and certain death was to shake off the shackles of love and be alone forever. But that's not true. I believe now the only way either of us will be safe...is if we're together."

"No, no, not now that I'm mayor. Now that I'm mayor, it's too dangerous for me to have something I care about. You were right all those months ago when you said a man with nothing he loves cannot be bargained or betrayed. I can't afford to be bargained now. And I just can't be betrayed again..." he said, although the catch in his voice when he spoke of betrayal seemed a lot more personal than just his betrayal by Butch.

A silence like death set in following Oswald's words as they both stood paralyzed in front of each other. The only movement Ed could bring himself to make was to stroke Oswald's hand as if he was trying to keep it warm. Tears stung his eyes so brutally that he couldn't see the long slender fingers he was touching, so he memorized them by how they felt in his hand. He bit his lip to keep from crying out and breathed against the lump in his throat that had grown larger by the second.

"So that's it then?" he croaked, "Is this how it ends for us?"

Oswald nodded feebly as he silently wept and ever so gently pulled his hand from Ed's grasp. Ed's hand felt empty and incomplete without it.

"Yes. Yes, Ed. Please just go. It will get better with time. Trust me, I know."

As Oswald turned to walk away, Ed suddenly found that his voice had returned to him and he sucked in a breath in deep surprise.

"I have just one more thing I need to ask from you, Oswald," he said resolutely, "Just one more thing and then I promise I'll leave."

Oswald was silent, but turned to face him and blinked in the dim light of the room. Ed took that as acceptance and plowed on.

"I need to hear it."

"Hear what?" Oswald whispered, tensing up.

"You know what."

"What do you want from me, Ed?" Oswald replied, but his voice was not nearly as angry as it was deeply sad, "You already know how I feel about you. Do you really need to hear it out loud?"

"Yes! I want to hear it! I'm telling you, I _need_ to hear it!"

Oswald took a step back, as if caught slightly off-guard by Ed's boldness, and tried desperately to wipe the tears from his eyes, but they were only replaced by more. He sniffed hard in an effort to stem them, laughing a little as if laughing at himself.

"This is not how I wanted this to go at all..." he lamented and sniffed again, trying to steady himself.

"I know..." Ed whispered.

At long last, Oswald levelled him with a soft stare, a look that communicated both love and fear.

"I love you, Ed Nygma..." he said, and his voice sounded surprisingly steady for a man who seemed so terrified, "I love you more deeply and completely than I thought was possible. I love you so much that just thinking about being with you fills me with joy and makes me feel...safe. And, truth be told, I don't want to stop being around you. Not ever."

It was like all the tension had been released from Ed's shoulders, like he had been walking hunched over for his entire life and suddenly was standing up straight. With the breath that had been restored to his body, he quipped,

" _I cannot be smashed, but I can be broken. You can speak from me, yet I have never spoken. A harsh word can destroy me, a gentle touch can restore. I cannot be seen but I cannot be ignored. I can beat, but can't be beaten. I can be poured out and never depleted. What am I_?"

Much to Ed's great shock, this riddle was not met with disdain or confusion, but a tearful smile.

"The heart..." Oswald said, tears springing up anew, but these tears seemed to be happier tears than the last, "Please stay, Ed. Please don't go. Please don't ever go."

Ed took a step forward and cupped Oswald's face in his hands.

"Tonight your demons got the better of you," he whispered, "But they don't have to control you. They don't have to define you. We can fight them...together. I'll always be here for you. No matter what. I'll always be here."

Oswald put a hand to Ed's hand like a man in a dream.

"What do we do now?" he asked, his voice shaky and rusty as though it hadn't been used in days.

"I don't know..." Ed admitted, although he had a few ideas, "I would never want to push you to be in a relationship with me if you weren't comfortable with it. I can't be selfish either. It's enough to know you love me; if you want to, we can go back to being just the mayor and Chief of Staff."

"No!" Oswald hastily replied, "I mean...we'll still be that, of course. But...I do want to be something more. I want that so badly. If you can think we can make it work."

"I think we can, Oswald."

"So then...I suppose what you do now is...kiss me." Oswald murmured.

"Yes...yes, you're right. I believe it is," Ed whispered, drawing himself very close to Oswald and getting ready to bend his head to meet him, "Oh, and by the way, Oswald? Last night was a mistake - I mean, you really should have kissed me in front of that fire."

"Well I won't make the same mistake again." Oswald said, a smile creeping onto his lips as he leaned up and Ed leaned down.

It was on that smile that Ed finally got to kiss him. Automatically, his hands went to Oswald's back, pulling the shorter man closer; Oswald allowed himself to be dragged, wrapping his hands around Ed's waist to steady himself. It was the most tender kiss Ed had ever experienced or could ever imagine and, like the world around him had become devoid of time, it seemed to last for an eternity. It seemed like entire planets could have be born and died in the time they kissed, even though he knew logically that it had only been a few seconds - a few small seconds to herald in so many more seconds, minutes, hours, days...

When they did separate at last, each moving back into their natural positions, Oswald blinked at him for several moments in blissful disbelief.

"I wonder if you know how much you've saved me..." he whispered like a man in awe.

"We've both saved each other, I think," Ed replied, "Maybe, if we don't ever do anything good in our lives, perhaps we can at least say that."

But any other words would have to remain unspoken for now, as he pulled Oswald Cobblepot in for another kiss.


End file.
